


Come What May

by georgiamagnolia



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: After Mission, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon knows the value of patience, and the price it demands as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come What May

Napoleon sat quietly, watchful, waiting for movement. He couldn’t count how many times he had done similar duty; late into the night, in the early hours of morning, countless minutes ticking by too slowly and silently in his solitude. He could feel need building; the urge for action, the desire to move, to make things happen. He breathed in deeply and held still despite his instinct, or perhaps superstition against it. He knew that if this continued much longer, this interminable limbo, that the bargaining would begin if only inside his own mind. He would start to imagine the things he would be willing to give up for the wait to end, things he could cut back to make room for the desired outcome to materialize. He would debate and argue and enumerate in the quiet inside his head all the reasons why he wanted it, then all the reasons he shouldn’t, then all the reasons why he kept silent and still.

And then finally his wish was granted once again, his vigilance rewarded with movement and light and action returned to his night.

Illya’s eyes opened and after a moment he turned to where he knew his partner waited. “Nothing better to do?” he asked with a voice that was quiet and showed the strain.

“Nothing better than you, partner.”

“I bet you say that…” Illya’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat to start again.

“No, I don’t.” Napoleon took the glass of water from the bedside table and offered the straw in it to Illya who sipped and then nodded when he had enough. Napoleon sat it aside and gave his partner a smile.

“I hope not, it’s a terrible line.”

“Only when it’s a lie, partner mine.”

Illya, too tired to roll his eyes, simply smiled.


End file.
